Archive for January, 2010



19
Jan
10

Impending Sense Of Doom

I’m 26 years old, 26 years and 2 months, give or take, and I think I’m going through some kind of quarter life crisis that is manifesting itself in this Impending Sense Of Doom that feels like it’s bearing down on me incessantly.

I want you to understand that I am not a person who is prone to panic in any way, shape, size or form. Panic, to me, seems like a lot of unnecessary hard work and I’m not into that at all. Hard work, sure, I’m not scared of hard work, but unnecessary hard work? Life’s too short for crap like that.

Panic and worry – what a load. Also it’s pretty much a universal truth that most of the things we worry about never happen. Sure people will argue that they never happen because we worry about them, but I’ll tell those people to fuck right off and keep on not worrying about stuff while they get horrible anxiety-related illnesses and suffer from unrelenting runny poo.

But it’s weird, I don’t know what’s happening to me lately. Round about last week Wednesday I started to get really down, which is also something that doesn’t happen to me often, but I sucked it up, told myself to stop being such a fag and did what I usually do when I’m down – elected to go on a three day drinking binge.

 

 

Hahah, I kid.

I hit the gym nice and hard, exercised the demon, went home, ate a big steak, had great sex, passed the fuck out and slept like a baby.

Thing is, the next day it was back. I don’t remember at what point I started feeling it again, but I wasn’t just down this time, this time something else was lurking in my head too, this mild sense of… I don’t know how to describe it, fuck it kills me to write this, but yeah, I think it was panic.

God, why am I writing this? Nobody wants to read this shit, I’m sorry this is fucking retarded.

Forget I ever said anything. Here’s a picture of a monkey riding a bicycle:

 

 

-ST

18
Jan
10

Movie Review: Where The Wild Things Are

I went into Where The Wild Things Are with high hopes after watching the trailer numerous times and hearing from a lot of people that the book, written by Maurice Sendak and published in 1963, was one of their favourite childhood stories.

 

 

Also, the movie was directed by Spike Jonze, who worked with writer Charlie Kaufman on two of my favourite movies of all time, Being John Malkovich and Adaptation. Besides that, Jonze mainly directs music videos and TV commercials, for which he has received numerous awards.

I have only the vaguest recollection of reading the book when I was young, and as such, went into the movie hardly knowing anything about the plotline or the characters, which was probably a good thing as the original children’s book was only 48 pages long and thus had to be expanded and changed considerably to make up the 100-odd minute screenplay.

Sadly, I found the movie didn’t live up to my expectations. The feeling I got from watching the trailer (which features the epic Arcade Fire song ‘Wake Up’) was that this was a deep and significant piece of filmmaking that was guaranteed to pull at the heartstrings and was loaded with meaning and profundity.

The actual experience of watching the film was very far from being meaningful or profound and I left the cinema feeling like I’d missed something, some kind of vital clue to help unlock this movie for me, because I found it disjointed and largely inaccessible.

 

Where The Wild Things Are tells the story of Max (played by Max Records), a troubled young boy who’s parents have divorced and who lives with his mother and sister, both of whom he has a difficult relationship with. After a huge fight erupts with his mother one night, during which Max dons his wolf suit and bites her, he ends up running away from home and finding a small boat, which he sails to a distant land, inhabited by the large, oafish Wild Things of the story’s title.

At first, the Wild Things want to eat Max and in a scene that takes a nightmarish turn, they surround him and are on the verge of devouring him when he convinces them that he has magical powers and can explode their heads at will. They then decide to make him their king after which he leads the Wild Things on a ‘rumpus’ through the woods that consists of them smashing trees and rocks, tackling one another and laughing all the while.

Yeah, just wait, it gets weirder.

After the rumpus, the Wild Things all collapse in a huge pile on top of one another and go to sleep, happy and content with their new king, who was sworn in on the condition that he would keep all sadness away forever.

The next day Max goes on a tour of the Wild Thing’s island with Carol (the Wild Thing in all the movie posters, voiced by James Gandolfini). Max is shown a model of the island that Carol has built in a secret cave where Carol likes to be alone. This inspires Max to command the Wild Things to build a massive fort, something that brings them all together as they unite toward a common purpose.

 

 

However, before the fort can be completed, Carol’s ‘love interest’ KW brings her friends Bob and Terry (who are owls) to the fort which causes Carol to become angry and overwhelmed with jealousy.

Without explaining the entire plot, let’s just say that relations degenerate even further from this point and eventually force Max to board his tiny ship again and leave the island. Back at home, he finds his mother waiting up for him with his supper, which he eats ravenously while his mother falls asleep watching him with a happy smile on her face.

The End.

My biggest problem with Where The Wild Things Are is the dialogue in the movie. The Wild Things all speak like children, which is understandable as the implication throughout is that the island Max has discovered is based purely on his imagination, however it makes all of the interactions between the characters in the movie really bizarre to the point where you’re never sure what to take seriously or what to dismiss as inconsequential banter.

This becomes a problem when the story approaches its major turning points because for me, none of them felt very significant. For example, Max decides to initiate a big ‘dirt clod war’ in an effort to bring the Wild Things together and encourage them to have fun, which ends in even more in-fighting when KW accidently steps on Carol’s head.

Watching the scene unfold all I thought was, ‘OK, so she stepped on his head and now he’s furious. Huh. Is this supposed to be important?’

At this point I can almost hear you all shouting ‘But it’s supposed to be a kid’s movie! Stop analysing it like an adult!’ to which I have only the following to say, the story of Where The Wild Things Are that Spike Jonze tells is far too laden with sadness, loneliness and melancholy to appeal to most children, trust me, most of the kids in the audience looked like they were about to fall asleep.

 

 

I strongly suspect that Where The Wild Things Are is a film that takes on a much greater significance the second time you watch it, or at least I hope so, because the first time I confess that I think I missed the point entirely.

Max Records’ acting can’t be faulted however and damn! That kid’s gonna grow up to be some kind of tri-athlete – he runs everywhere in the movie and is filled with a kind of wild energy that suits the film’s theme well.

All in all, I would recommend watching this film because it’s so different from other films in its genre, but definitely don’t shell out your hard earned bucks to go and see it at the movies because honestly, I don’t think it’s worth it. Oh, and the awesome Arcade Fire song in the trailer? It’s not in the movie, or even the movie soundtrack. Fail.

Final Verdict: 6/10

17
Jan
10

Leftover SUnday

Sometimes I feel like I don’t do enough on weekends, do you ever get that feeling? You arrive at work on Monday and your colleagues ask the usual ‘How was your weekend?’ question and the best you can come  up with is, ‘Yeah, good thanks, and yours?’

‘Good thanks.’

‘Cool… umm…’

‘You do anything cool?’

‘Yeah, we saw a cool movie and you?’

‘Oh, we had a braai, nothing too hectic, chilled y’know?’

‘Cool…’

‘Yeah…’

‘Um, you want some coff-’

‘STICK IT TO MY VEINS!’

All we really did today was buy washing powder, try and change the earrings I got J-Rab for Christams (they broke), made hamburgers for lunch and had an afternoon nap, which got rudely interrupted by the most badass rain storm you’ve ever seen.

 

 

Thunder, lightning, hail and buckets and buckets of rain.

Now it’s time to call it a night. J-Rab and I just got a whole bunch of new media from Graumpot, including seasons 1, 2 and 3 of Dexter, which I haven’t seen, but which everyone tells me I’ll really love.

So here’s a pic of Graum’s car, I call it the Terminator Car, here’s why:

 

 

Later homies 🙂

-ST

16
Jan
10

The Saturday Post: 16th Jan

I tell ya, this rain is starting to get pretty fucking ridiculous if you ask me. Somebody remind me where we live again? Cause it feels like a rainforest, no shit.

So far today’s been pretty chilled, we straightened the flat out, had lunch with the folks, did some grocery shopping and later are going to eat sushi and then watch Where The Wild Things Are, which I’m really, really excited to see.

So much so that I’ve spent the last two hours in Hyde Park shops, with my head in this poster:

 

 

Good times I tell ya! Good times 🙂

-ST

15
Jan
10

White Nipples (NSFW)

So there’s this rumour going around, not sure if you guys might have heard it, but they tell me that it’s motherfuckingfridayfuckyeah!

If you’ve been reading and following this blog over the past few days, chances are you’re getting a little tired of my long and rambling tirades, so instead of getting on my high horse and writing a post that has intellectual and social relevance, today I decided to just say ‘screw it’ and post a pic Stikey sent me of a girl with white nipples.

Clever photoshopping or a rare genetic mutation, you decide.

 

 

Have a killer weekend guys, be safe and if you find any white nipples this weekend, be sure to send the pics my way 😉

-ST

14
Jan
10

Bar One Manhunt – Only Cool Because Of Phil

Last week I walk into our lounge, fresh from helping Graumpot try jump start his car after it died while he was in Mozam, and who do I see on TV? My buddy Phil!

It was cool to see one of my buddies on TV instead of me for a change. I’m on TV all the time. I’ll sleep anywhere when I’m drunk 😉

Needless to say, from that point on I was glued to the set. I went to school and varsity with Phil, but hadn’t seen the guy probably since 2005, so I was rooting for him 100%. We used to row together back in highschool, and no by ‘rowing’ I don’t mean this:

 

 

I mean this:

 

 

It’s a physically demanding sport and as far as I could tell, Phil still does it, which is why he probably decided to enter the Bar One Manhunt.

From what I can tell, the idea behind the show is a whole bunch of guys get taken through one gruelling physical task after the next, and with each task, or series of tasks they go through more and more guys get eliminated until there is just one left.

And that one guy, after surviving countless hellish tasks, pushing his body to the limit, sweating blood and getting his ass kicked all over public TV, after going through all that shit, that one guy wins…

A Bar One?

Who fucking knows? Not me. It might have slipped my attention, but I’ve watched two shows so far and still have no idea what they’re actually competing for. That’s a pretty major fail if you ask me.

The other major fail is the fact that the show is hosted by Ursula Stapelfeldt, who scares the living crap out of me. Just have a look at this smile, it’s like staring directly into the sun.

 

 

Ursula. Likes. To speak. Like this. While making. Lame. Gestures. With. Her hands.

I mean, yeah, the contestants on the show are a bunch of meathead guys mostly, who’re probably way better at competing in triathlons than they are understanding complicated instructions, but c’mon, they’re not retarded, and nor are we.

Last week ended on this mind blowing cliff-hanger because the show chose to throw all the rules of reality TV out the window and instead of ending the episode by telling us who actually got eliminated, they chose instead to pump the dramatic music to a nauseating level as. They. Announced. That. The. First two people. To. Be. Eliminated. From. The Bar One. Manhunt.

Are…

[To Be Continued]

Ow! My balls!

 

 

Thanks guys, great climax right there. Go suck a fuck.

So I sat diligently in front of the telly last night for the second episode of the show, which began with two people getting eliminated – how random. There’s a reason why every reality show on TV follows the same format, don’t fuck with that. No one gives a damn if you eliminate people at the beginning of a TV show.

We haven’t built up any kind of relationship with those guys over the course of the episode, we don’t give a rat’s ass that they have to go home, hell, we can’t even remember who they were, a week has gone by! If something can hold my attention for longer than 5 minutes, call Guinness. But a week?

From there the episode started wandering all over the place like a drunk trying to find a McDonalds in a frog storm. The first challenge was to build a raft out of barrels, wooden planks and nylon rope. Both teams’ rafts fell to pieces the second they went through the first set of rapids, for which neither team were penalised in any way.

After that some quad biking ensued, followed by a spot of cycling, a fucktarded ‘mental’ challenge involving a number of poles that both teams solved in about 40 seconds and then a jog to the finish line the following morning where we all held our breath for the earth shattering news that. The people. Getting. Eliminated. From this week’s episode. Were…

No one!

Christ! My balls!

 

 

Non elimination round. Thank you very much for watching. That’s 30 minutes of your life you can NEVER GET BACK.

Phil rocked though. Forget the show itself, just watch it for Phil and if he gets eliminated, stop watching the show immediately or Ursula’s 1000000 Watt smile will make you blind.

Fact.

-ST

13
Jan
10

The Only Vampire I ever Gave A Shit About

I don’t know what the dealy-o is with vampires right now, but it seems everyone’s going apeshit over them. It’s really fucking lame, and to put it bluntly, more than a little gay if you ask me, especially the Twilight kind of vampire – they sparkle in sunlight? Seriously? And people like this shit?

 

 

The Oatmeal’s take on How Twilight Works is probably the best summary of the entire franchise and makes me glad I haven’t wasted any time reading the books or watching the movies.

Maybe I’m missing out, maybe Twilight could have changed my life for the better. For the sake of at least having an informed opinion, I’ve often thought of reading the books or watching the movies, but right as I’m about to do it, this overwhelming feeling of ‘meh’ creeps up on me and I decide to do something else instead, like pluck my nose hairs or make a sammich.

I’ve read a couple of books dealing with Vampires, the most notable of which would probably be the Anne Rice Vampire Chronicles (Interview With A Vampire, Lestat, Queen Of The Damned, Tale Of The Body Thief and Memnoch The Devil) and to be honest, always found the whole vampire genre to actually be a thinly disguised exploration of homosexuality and sexual deviance.

 

 

What a load.

BUT, there is one Vampire I really identified with because his story wasn’t a sordid, dressed up sexual fantasy, but rather an awesome exploration into the nature of addiction.

I’m talking about Cassidy from the best goddamn graphic novel series I ever read, The Preacher.

If you’re into really violent and gripping fiction, do yourself a favour and go and buy all of The Preacher series right now, it’s an awesome story about a Preacher from Texas (Jesse Custer) who gets possessed by an entity named Genesis which allows him to command the Word Of God.

 

 

It’s a badass superpower – his eyes light up all red and anything he says people obey without question, sometimes with hilarious consequences, like when an entire platoon of army guys are trying to gun Jesse and his girlfriend Tulip down and he turns to them, eyes blazing, and screams ‘Fuck off!’

They immediately drop their weapons and just start running in the opposite direction into the desert, at which point one of them looks nervously at his buddy and says, ‘For how long?’ The implication, of course, is forever.

So what does Mr Custer do with his newfound power? Well, he commands the heavenly host down from the ether and demands to know what has happened and subsequently finds out that the natural order is falling to pieces because God has left his throne and left his creation to go to shit.

Jesse’s mission after that is simple, track God down and kick his ass.

Jesse is a great character because he hardly ever uses his superpower, choosing rather to use his fists to solve the various problems he encounters on his journey. Right in the beginning of the series he meets and befriends Cassidy, who is intrigued by Jesse and decides to join him on his mission.

Cassidy is Irish and is a full-blown alcoholic. He’s an unshaven, charming rogue who never takes his sunglasses off and fucking loves nothing more than getting wasted, getting laid and partying like his life depends on it. He’s a happy-go-lucky kind of dude and from the moment he steps into the story, you can’t help but like him.

Him and Jesse form a close friendship really fast, even though Jesse finds it a little strange that Cassidy sleeps for most of the day under a heavy tarpaulin sheet in the back of Jesse’s truck and basically avoids the sun at all costs.

Then one night the two of them get into a fight with a bunch of rednecks, one of whom plunges a knife into Cassidy’s eye, right through his sunglasses. Instead of reacting, Cassidy just stands there calmly, pulls the knife out, tears the guy’s throat out with his teeth and starts drinking him dry.

I forget exactly what Jesse’s reaction is, but he says something like, ‘Holy shit! You’re a…’

At which point Cassidy lets the guy’s dead body fall to the floor, and, grinning from ear to ear, blood all over his face says, ‘That’s right. The “V” word…’

 

 

He’s one of the best characters I’ve ever read. He’s a lousy fighter, but because he’s a vampire, he has super human strength and can heal from any wound, so it doesn’t really matter. In fights he only needs to land one decent punch and his opponent’s bones shatter like glass.

He gets fucked up over and over and over again, but just keeps coming back for more, nothing can stop him. Also, he doesn’t need to drink blood to sustain himself, it just helps him heal faster if he’s been fucked up badly, otherwise he can eat normal food, drink booze, have sex and do everything a normal person does, he just can’t be in the sun too long or he starts to burn up.

However, about halfway through the series Jesse starts meeting characters that know Cassidy and they all start warning Jesse about him, telling Jesse he has no idea who Cassidy really is, what he’s done or what he’s capable of doing and they’re right.

Cassidy is a monster. He was turned back in 1916 and once he found out how powerful he was, he indulged every hedonistic whim that came his way. He dived headfirst into a life of drugs, alcohol, partying and lots of sex, and because he was such a loveable guy, he made a lot of friends and was really popular in the circles he moved in.

Before long, he discovered heroine and encourageed his friends and his lover to do it with him. Over time, it destroys his friends completely, their lives fall to pieces, they become heavily addicted, spurred on by Cassidy’s appetite for the stuff.

Eventually, his friends start dying around him, but he doesn’t give a fuck. He looks like total shit, and at his lowest point, lives in a derelict building, feeding off the rats he finds and prostituting himself on the streets to feed his habit.

 

 

He eventually manages to recover from his addiction, but by that time the lives of all the people that were close to him are completely ruined.

Cassidy ends up sleeping with Jesse’s girlfriend after Jesse is thrown from a plane and believed to be dead. Tulip is so distraught, she starts doing sleeping pills and tranquilisers with Cassidy and the two hole them selves up in a motel and live out their days like two junkies, trying to kill the pain of Jesse’s ‘death’.

Cassidy turns out to be the monster everyone said he was because he can’t control his vices and because he lives outside the rules that apply to everyone else. The story does actually have a happy ending, but you’re gonna have to read it yourself to find it out 😉

I think it’s the most accurate depiction of what most people would do if they were ‘turned’. All this nancy Vampire bullshit that seems to be so damn popular in the media right now is a pile of wanky shit if you ask me.

Just read The Preacher. You can thank me later 🙂

-ST

12
Jan
10

Men, Males and Bitches – The SLickTiger Guide To Guys

If I had a buck for every time I’ve heard men complain about how complicated women are, I swear, I’d be living on a 300ft yacht, anchored off the coast of the Caribbean, sipping expensive champagne and working earnestly on my tan and that novel I’ve been planning.

 

 

However, the opposite is also true – men are equally as complicated as women, if not more so in some circumstances.

Gone are the days of our grandparents where there were stringent guidelines in place that dictated the duties and behaviour of men and women in society. These days anything goes which, don’t get me wrong, I think is a great thing, but has sadly also lead to both men and women losing their way and experiencing mounting frustration when it comes to not only figuring the opposite sex out, but figuring themselves out as well.

The changing roles of men and women in this fucked up world is a subject I think about often when I’m people-watching or engaging with people in social circumstances and one that lead me into a conversation about guys with my girlfriend last night where a sudden epiphany struck me.

I believe that the broad category of ‘guys’ can be broken down into three basic sub-categories into which almost any guy you meet will fit perfectly, and those categories are ‘Men’, ‘Males’ and ‘Bitches’.

This lightbulb moment is inspired by nothing more than the observations I have made over the last 26 years of being alive, and spurred on by the fact that I love nothing more than to engage with, observe and try and carefully take people apart to figure out what makes them tick.

So, starting at the bottom of the list, here’s the SlickTiger breakdown of the 3 categories that guys fall into:

 

BITCHES

The most defining characteristics of this group of guys are a total lack of backbone, an overriding obsession with themselves and an inability to overcome their insecurities.

Bitches are more concerned with their hair, nails, skin, cologne, clothes and shoes than even their own girlfriends are and go to painstaking lengths to ensure they look and smell immaculate at all times, whether they’re going out to a club or driving three blocks to drop off a DVD.

 

 

In social situations they have a tendency to be extroverted to a cringe-worthy degree as they vie constantly for the attention of the group and have an irritating laugh that is completely fake and bursts from them like rapid machine gun fire.

Typically they have more girl friends than guy friends because they love to gossip and they make for great companions when it comes to shopping for a new blouse or a killer pair of heels for the girls night you have planned.

At this point I think it needs to be said that Bitches are not necessarily gay. Gay men don’t all just fall into one category, gay guys can be Men, Males or Bitches. The media loves to portray gay men as flamboyant, raging queens, but in the real world this stereotype doesn’t always hold true.

It’s not all bad though, bitches have some redeeming qualities as well – they are completely in touch with their emotions, can often be really funny and, provided they can actually get over themselves, can be surprisingly thoughtful and understanding when life is kicking you in squarely in the guts.

The biggest issue I have with Bitches though is that they have no problem whatsoever with looking you straight in the eye and lying through their teeth. Nothing is ever their fault and they will squirm and wriggle furiously to avoid shouldering the blame for their mistakes.

Many women fall for this type of guy because they find their hundreds of little idiosyncrasies fascinating and cute and, to put it bluntly, on some level they feel sorry for them and want to mother them.

 

 

Further down the line though, when it’s crunch time, Bitches will let you down and blame you for their own shortcomings. They are chronically incapable of handling real responsibility or exercising selflessness in any form.

Be careful of making a Bitch your life partner girls. They might seem fun, adorable and interesting at first, but sooner or later you’ll end up screaming the words, ‘Just fucking grow up!’ or, ‘Be a fucking man for once!’ frequently when huge arguments erupt.

Eventually you’ll grow tired of their endless shit and will probably end up moving right along to the next category of guys.

 

MALES

Males are the most common group of guys you’re likely to come across and can be sub-divided into the categories of ‘Mr Nice Guy’, ie. the first guy to get fucked, but the last guy to get laid (that quote courtesy of The MAEN!) and Mr Asshole ie. the guy that gets laid all the time.

Mr Nice guy gets on with life and is a damn side more reliable and consistent than a Bitch would be. In social situations, they move in groups of two or three and are typically seen huddling in the corner or the nightclub, casting surreptitious glances at the gorgeous women in the room and wishing they had the balls to just go up and talk to them.

 

 

The problem with Mr Nice Guy is that he has lost his ability to be assertive and is prone to bouts of low self esteem that manifest in him doing nothing at all.

If Mr Nice Guy is out with his girlfriend and another guy starts hitting on her, Mr Nice Guy will stand aside politely and let the other guy muscle his way in there because another trait of Mr Nice Guy is that he will do almost anything to avoid confrontation.

Like I said though, they’re ok guys, and in many cases actually end up with seriously gorgeous women when they approach their mid thirties because by then a lot of women are ready to settle down with Mr Nice Guy because he’s predictable, easy to control and has usually amassed a small fortune by then by keeping his head down and working like a dog.

Mr Asshole on the other hand get’s more ass than a porta-loo at a rock festival, but this solely to do with the fact that he acts like a complete jerk when it comes to women, because he’s figured out that ironically, the less it appears like you want a woman, the more she will want you in turn.

These Males are your typical beer-swilling jocks that also congregate in groups of three or more and thrill in the fact that they actually know very little about women because for their purposes, they don’t need to.

 

 

The problem with these guys is that, while they might be able to get a lot of tail, they can never keep it because they are basically severely underdeveloped emotionally and have a proclivity to cheat on their girlfriends at the drop of a hat.

Males do a lot of damage to women’s perception of men because they lead women to believe that there are only two types of men on this planet – Mr Nice Guy, who is stable, considerate, quiet and unassuming, but ultimately boring and Mr Asshole, who is wild, rough, unpredictable, but ultimately inconsiderate and careless with their lovers, girlfriends and wives.

Which leads me to the final and sadly the rarest type of guy out there.

 

MEN

There is a type of guy out there who lives his life according to the ideals of honesty, courage and integrity in all situations, who treats all the people he comes across in his life with equal respect and understanding and who has the confidence to be assertive without being arrogant, the intelligence to know when to pick his fights and how hard to fight them and the balls to shoulder the responsibility of his fuck ups and admit when he is wrong.

Being a Man is a lifelong ambition, it’s something guys have to work towards constantly and it’s something that only at the end of his life will a guy ever know if he’s achieved, and it’s for those reasons that real Men are difficult to find.

Men carry themselves with a natural confidence that is not forced or contrived, but rather lies calmly beneath the surface and is so palpable that other people can actually feel it the second a Man walks into the room.

A Man makes it his life’s mission to understand himself and is not afraid to explore every facet of his personality no matter how dark or difficult those roads may be.

 

 

Real Men are fascinated by and in awe of women. They recognise the power these beings have over us and are not threatened in any way by that, or afraid to give their hearts to women, no matter how vulnerable that might make them feel.

Men live their lives with a conviction that seldom wavers and a core set of values and ideals for which they are prepared to fight and, in some cases, die in order to uphold.

At the same time though, a true Man also possesses a great sense of humour and an ability to keep smiling though the going might be tough and keep laughing though his heart might be breaking to pieces inside.

Men have the capacity to put other people first and seek to help rather than criticise people weaker than themselves. They are great listeners because they understand that in each person they meet they encounter pieces of themselves and as such are able to understand and tolerate a lot of people that the rest of society deems strange, different or difficult.

Men seldom lose their cool, but when they do, it’s because you have harmed someone close to them, in which case you better run as hard and fast as you can because they will not hesitate to track you down and tear you a new one.

Men respect themselves and their bodies, take pride in their appearance and usually exercise frequently because they enjoy pushing their bodies and minds as far as they can go and breaking through the boundaries that previously defined them.

A large part of a Man’s life is also dedicated to the control and subsequent eradication of fear, because they realise the simple fact that until they do this, they will never be able achieve greatness.

There are guys like this out there, but it is not always apparent at face value which guys have decided to walk the road of Manhood and which are just floundering around with no purpose, drive or vision.

Also, real Men prove themselves through their actions and not their words and this is the single most important thing I would encourage women to do – listen to the things he says and watch the things he does and if the two don’t add up, proceed with caution because there’s a good chance he’s full of shit.

——————————————————————————————————————————–

I hope this has helped in some way. I might be completely off the mark here, and if you have any thoughts on the topic, please feel free to fire away, that’s what the comments section is for 🙂

-ST

11
Jan
10

I have all the answers

Guys, I have some really great news that I’d like to share with you that I think is going to really brighten up this dreary Monday, are you ready for it? Awesome, here it comes.

I have all the answers. It happened to me completely by chance, much like being bitten by a radioactive spider or getting bombarded with gamma rays. There I was, sitting at the traffic light outside our complex, waiting for it to turn green when suddenly, out of nowhere, this heavenly light started shining down on me.

 

 

I turned toward the light, and standing right there was this guy handing out pamphlets. Now usually I wouldn’t accept pamphlets handed out at the traffic light by complete strangers, but like I said, there was something about this guy, some kind of invisible force that was radiating from his core that said to me, plain as day, ‘Taaaakkkkeeeee a pamphlet, taaaaaakkkkkeeeee oooooonnnnneeeeeee…’

So I took one. And now, I have all the answers.

If you don’t mind, I’d like to quote the opening paragraph of the pamphlet ad lib, because of its awesomeness:

Prof. Mosh, Hailed As The Herbalist Of The Year In 2005 And 2006 Consecutively. He is an Astrologers, Herbalist, Healer And Researcher. He is the Proud Winner Of The Eastern Africa Herbalist Control Council Award For Life-time Achievement In Astrology And Herbal Healing. He is the current leader of the grand ancestral shrine which has been in existence since 1820 as a source of the most powerful unseen forces. he has solved many mysterious issues by using the invisible powers. He’s regards by many as one of the greatest healer on the planet today.

I couldn’t believe my luck! ‘The greatest healer on the planet today’ practising right here, In Joburg! No. Fucking. Way.

But wait, it gets better. After that comes a list of no less than 19 different superpowers that this guy possesses. Nineteen! Not even Peter Petrelli has that many superpowers, what a legend!

 

 

Here are some of the ones that really stood out for me:

1. Read and tell all your problems before you even mention them to him
5. Remove the black spot in your hand that keeps taking your money away
6. Find out why you are not progressing in life and solution
9. Ensure excellent school grades even for children with mental disabilities
10. Bring you to see your enemies and make demands on them using a mirror
14. Heal women problems of barrenness, disturbing menstruation, Abnormally long pregnancies, etc.

How the hell is that?! This guy can do anything guys. I mean, he is the current leader of the grand ancestral shrine, there’s nothing that can stop this dude.

Personally I was blown away by number 5 because I always wandered what the hell that black spot in my hand was all about and now I know, it’s been stealing my money! Naughty black spot!

What’s even better is the paragraph that follows his list of superpowers. I hope you’re sitting down for this.

Prophet Mosh is known to bless, capture, heal, pray and Show your past, future and right friends from just a mirror He has the power to sit on a crocodile & lion skin While floating on water & communicating with the dead

Just read that part again carefully. That’s a whole other level of multitasking. Fuck, I’d pay R200 to see that – sitting on both a crocodile and lion skin while floating on water and communicating with the dead! Ka-Pow! There goes my mind.

 

 

Why had I never heard of this guy before? I mean shit, a guy this powerful could have taken over the entire world by now, what a badass!

And all he needs is R200 for a consultation, ‘your surname, date of birth & 1 candle’. A modest fee if I ever heard one.

This is powerful stuff right here guys and so, for a limited time only, I am opening up this site to you, my faithful readers to please (for a negligible admin fee) post your troubles and hardship in the comments section and I will communicate with Prophet Mosh himself, who will in turn communicate with the dead, and bada bing, bada bang, using the invisible powers, we will solve your problems and ensure everlasting happiness and pleasures.

I’m here for you guys. Me and my new buddy, Prophet Mosh, who has offices in ‘North Gate, Coca Cola Doom, Randburg, Malibongwe Drive & Melville Montgomery Park’ (so yeah, add ‘master of cloning himself’ to his list of superpowers) are gonna make your life flippin’ sweet!

Don’t delay! Post your troubles and worries now and by tomorrow, they will all be gone. This is not some ‘Crossing Over With John Edwards’ bullshit that you see on TV, this is the real deal!

I have all the answers guys, and soon you will too.

Easy as pie 😉

-ST

10
Jan
10

There is no post today

There is no post today. Don’t come here all expectant, looking for something significant, something that will make you laugh, something that one day you can tell your kids about, because you won’t find it.

The post that was supposed to be here up and left, no goodbye note, no forwarding address, no explanation. It was here the one minute, and the next, it was smoke.

There are other posts out there, millions upon millions, written by other people, fine people and people you can admire and say ‘I’m proud of him. He did everything I wished he would do, he grew up into a great person and made all the right choices in his life and I couldn’t be happier with the direction his life has taken. What a great guy. What a winner. His haircut is the best. He dresses well. He says everything perfectly at the right time, always. He will look after us… he will look after us…’

Don’t come here for that guy. The guy here isn’t that guy. The guy here is bent and a million different kinds of fucked up and if you don’t believe me, just ask people for chrissake, they’ll tell you. They’ll tell you straight up to weave a circle round him thrice and close your eyes with holy dread, with holy dread, for he on honeydew hath fed.

And drank the milk of paradise.

There is no post today, be glad of that, because if there was one it wouldn’t be friendly and curl up in your lap and keep you warm while it dozed contentedly, no.

It would bite you if there was a post here, with dirty teeth, and you wouldn’t leave feeling happy, you would leave feeling hurt.

 

 

There is no post today, but the authorities are on their way to kill whatever has taken it’s place, the rough beast that slouches, growling, slavering here in the dark.

For your sake, and mine, let’s hope they bring the big guns and don’t stop until whatever is here is sprayed in wet, red chunks all over the walls.

Here’s hopin’.

-ST